


The Ballad of Tam-Ra

by Cloudiana



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Ballad 39: Tam Lin, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Knight Adora (She-Ra), Magicat Catra (She-Ra), Magicats (She-Ra), Princess Catra (She-Ra)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudiana/pseuds/Cloudiana
Summary: Princess Catra had heard the stories of Tam-Ra. Some she had read in the libraries of Brightmoon as a young woman preparing for war. Some she had heard by a bonfire in Halfmoon at her mother’s knee. But those stories of a ghostly fae knight who forever trapped any princess who was foolish enough to wander into the Whispering Woods were far from her mind on that fateful day.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 117





	The Ballad of Tam-Ra

  
Catra had heard every horrible rumor of the Whispering Woods, of course. How the trees moved when you weren’t looking. How anyone who went in without a token to offer the nefarious Shadow Fae never returned. How bloody ghosts like the Headless Princess howled in the shadows.  
  
If you had asked the young Magicat as she entered the woods, she would have lied and told you that she wasn’t thinking of those stories. She was scared -- she didn’t show it, but she was. The princess had been given the woods as a gift. It was a wholly symbolic gift, one small part of the making of the alliance between two kingdoms.  
  
It wasn’t safe in her home. She couldn’t be with her family; she couldn’t be in her kingdom. The politics had been explained to her by the queens, Angella and Cyra. The threat of assassins, the risk of a Horde siege on Halfmoon, and the exploitable discontent of every noble with a dagger and a grudge had been laid out in excruciating detail.  
  
She was safer in Brightmoon, but she wasn’t happier by any meaning of the word. Everyday Catra poured over reports from the front lines. She longed to fight with her people, to prove that she wasn’t useless. To prove her mother wrong. It was one of the few shared sentiments that she and the princess of Brightmoon could bond over.  
  
She could also explain that as part of her exile, she was given command over the Whispering Woods. It was supposed to be a gesture of good faith, a title in name only. In the same way the princess of Brightmoon was granted command over Thaymor. It was meant to keep them out of danger.  
  
But the princesses, in one of their rare moments of total agreement, both decided to take the assignments seriously - if only to spite certain queens who wished to keep them out of the way. Glimmer studied every atlas of the region for a month before departing with her best friend, Bow, determined to defend every inch of land from the Horde, whatever the cost.  
  
For her part, Catra had little concrete information to study. After scouring the royal library, the most she could find on her new responsibility was folklore. Interesting, tantalizing folklore, but nothing she could base battle plans on. And most frustratingly of all: no maps. She understood that this chaos was part of the woods’ worth to the Alliance. If they couldn’t get past them, if they couldn’t understand them - then surely, their enemies couldn’t.  
  
But Catra was not so complacent. If there was an advantage to be taken in this war, she would take it. The princess of Halfmoon intended to explore what was hers. She would find out every secret of the Whispering Woods; and no one, not the queens, not the Horde, and certainly not some old stories who stop her.  
  
Catra didn’t know what she was getting into when she entered the woods that day. Because there was one ghost story she had forgotten. The story of Tam-Ra.  
  
——  
It wasn’t long before night fell. Despite the multiple moons in the sky, the woods were still cloaked in darkness. Spidery shafts of moonlight pierced the mossy floor, and the odd glowing fungus lit her path. Catra looked to her tracker pad, which was glitching like crazy, and wondered if she should have done a better job marking her path from Brightmoon.  
  
Those thoughts left her head when she entered the clearing. The ground was shrouded in mist, cut by moonbeams. A great live oak sat in the center. Its lanky, mossy limbs snaked across the cold grass. The larger branches were weighed down by thick woolen cloaks, green dye long-faded by the elements. Every twig that couldn’t bear such a weight instead held a gold ring, glittering in the pale light.  
  
And in the center of the clearing, under one of arched branches, was a blonde woman. Tall, clad in shining white and gold armor, wielding a great, glowing sword. A pair of stylized red wings shone like scars on the back of her cuirass. Catra suddenly remembered some of the warnings she’d read about as she entered the clearing. Not much, but enough to realize that she was in trouble when the mists rose to block her path back out.  
  
The blonde turned to her, waiting. An eternity seemed to pass before she spoke. “Do you have an offering?” The spirit asked, in an impassive voice. “A gold ring or green cloak for Tam-Ra?”  
  
Catra paused, feeling around her pockets for any trinkets. “Ugh,” she stalled. “No.” She felt something in her paws. “I have some . . . pocket lint!” She said putting on the most confident face she could, which was in all fairness very confident. “Would that be enough for you?”  
  
The blonde stumbled. “Umm.” She said. “I’m pretty sure it has to be a gold ring or a green cloak.” She shrugged apologetically. Catra noticed a sad look in her pale blue eyes, making her strong physique look somehow pitiful by comparison. “I’m Sorry. That’s what my master told me when she set me to guard this clearing.”  
  
“Well,” Catra said indignantly, “I’m Princess Catra of Halfmoon, Lady Commander of the Whispering Woods by order of Queen Angella of Brightmoon, Leader of the Rebellion!” She crossed her arms, lifted her chin, and raised an eyebrow defiantly. “So, I believe I decide what is appropriate payment for any fae in my territory.”  
  
“I’m not a fae,” the blonde countered.  
  
“I’m pretty sure Tam-Ra is a fae!” Catra shot back, recalling more of that particular legend. “I mean, no offense,” she said, meaning plenty of offense, “but you don’t exactly look Etherian.” The princess gestured at the warrior’s flowing hair and glowing aura. As if self-conscious, she lowered her sword, and the glow around her disappeared.  
  
All that was left in the clearing was a young woman, around Catra’s age by the looks of it. Her yellow hair was bound in a tight ponytail, with a little poof above the forehead. Her shining armor was replaced with simple grey robes and a tattered red cloak.  
  
In this form, the mystery knight was much more . . . approachable. Though, Catra didn’t change her guarded demeanor at first, fearing a trick. Still, the knight also seemed much more uncomfortable. The princess could tell that not many had seen this her like this before, and she didn’t want to betray her apparent trust in her. She still thought she was a fae though. A fae who was self-conscious without her glamor, but a far nonetheless.  
  
“I’ve never met a princess before,” the warrior said apologetically. “But the laws of the Shadow Fae rule in the Whispering Woods, not the laws of princesses.” She shrugged again. “So unless you have something to offer my master, the Queen of the Shadow Fae,” she said, “ I can’t let you leave this clearing.”  
  
Catra’s throat tightened. She should have come here with something more than pocket lint to offer; that would have been easier. But as she looked into the spirit’s sad eyes, and thought hard about her exact words, an escape plan flashed in her mind. “What’s your name?” The princess asked innocently.  
  
The mystery woman froze, as if no one had asked her that before. “Umm . . . Tam-Ra?” She offered nervously.  
  
“Well, that’s your _title_ in the stories,” the princess said. “But is it your _name_? Like, what do your friends call you?”  
  
“Umm.” She stammered guiltily for a minute before swallowing hard. She didn’t have friends. “It’s Adora.” She finally said. No one had ever cared about her name before. Her master had made it very clear that no one cared about her.  
  
Catra had thought it would be harder to get a fae’s true name. It always was in the stories, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  
  
“Well, _Adora_ ” the princess said, putting special emphasis on each syllable of her name. “A gold ring or a green cloak would satisfy your master,” the princess locked eyes with the mystery woman and took a slow step towards her, “but this is your clearing, isn’t it?”  
  
Adora gulped, overcome by strange emotions. This was the longest conversation she’d had with a mortal. “Yes. This is the clearing of Tam-Ra.”  
  
“Well, then” Catra insisted with a smile, “surely, you could decide what makes for an appropriate exit payment; if you don’t believe my authority over these woods to be legitimate, that is?”  
  
Adora’s eyes darted around the clearing, checking every shadow. The words of her master echoed in her ears. This intruder was a princess, an enemy. Someone who could not be trusted. But she had asked for her name. No one had ever done that before. With a conflicted heart, she answered her guest, her voice barely above a whisper, “I suppose I could.”  
  
The princess smiled. “Well then,” she said. “ I have no gold ring, and I have no green cloak. So . . . “ she took another step towards the warrior. “What would you want as payment?”  
  
Adora hesitated. Catra had studied enough stories of fae to know what to expect. The knight was sure to demand some bizarre payment with strange conditions. It was just how they worked. The princess would have to answer a riddle in three nights, or do some seemingly impossible task with a simple solution. Before the princess could consider all the possibilities, the mystery woman spoke.  
  
“If you would promise to come back to this clearing,” she said, unable to meet the princess in the eyes. “Not for forever! No no.” she clarified quickly, raising her hands defensively. “Just . . . sometime soon, to talk . . . For . . . For a little while, an hour tops, maybe!” Adora’s guilty eyes lifted to meet Catra’s for an second before sharply turning away. “I- I would let you go.”  
  
Catra examined the strange woman carefully. She wasn’t expecting something so simple, so . . . innocent. She at least expected the promise of a first-born child or three hairs from the devil’s head to be the price of her freedom. Yet, the fae seemed sincere. Sincere, and very, very sad. “You promise to let me go?” The princess asked.  
  
The blonde nodded. “I promise.” Her face twisted, like a guilty child. “Um. Just don’t—“ her gaze went far beyond the princess. “Just don’t tell anyone about this. Please. My master has ears everywhere.” With that, the mists from the edge of the clearing parted, and Princess Catra rushed off.  
  
Adora was sure she had made a mistake. She would never see the princess again. She would bear the wrath of her master alone, for nothing. It was what she deserved after all. To be tricked. To be abandoned. But, Adora was wrong.  
  
Catra would return.  
  
——-  
  
Princess Catra of Halfmoon returned many, many times. From her, Tam-Ra learned about the world outside the Whispering Woods. She learned the truth about the war — about the Princess Alliance, about the Rebellion, about the Horde. About Catra’s frustrations. Adora found she could listen to the princess speak for hours without saying a word herself.  
  
Adora thought she had less to offer. As an orphan taken in and given a place in the world by the grace of her master, she thought she had nothing to say in the face of this brave, worldly young woman who kept coming into her clearing- a woman with the courage to stand up to the Horde. Catra thought otherwise.  
  
She asked the mysterious knight about all she had witnessed in the spirit world below the wooded hills of Etheria. Adora had the names and stories of a thousand heroes on her lips - the mighty warrior CuChulain, the cunning teacher Scathcah, the blessed leader Finn MacCumhail. Those tales were the few gifts her master had bestowed on her. She even had a few stories of her own - of finding the Sword of Protection in the treasure hoard of the Mester Seawoorm, of meeting a pooka who kicked down stable doors across Etheria every night, and of besting the siren Sea Hawk in an arm wrestling contest. Catra didn’t think sirens were known for their biceps, but Adora assured her that it was an epic contest of strength.  
  
As the weeks passed, the two became friends. As the months passed, they became more than that, even if neither of them thought the other shared their feelings.  
  
The princess kept her promise. She told no one of her true purpose whenever she slipped into the Whispering Woods at dusk. She didn’t lie about them, though. As far as the Alliance was concerned, Catra was gathering tactical information. Tam-Ra, for all the time she spent guarding that one clearing, was surprisingly knowledgeable about the geography of the whole wood. The princess always came back with a detailed map of another quadrant.  
  
As the months went by, however, the princess noticed a change in her friend. Her stare tended to drift into the distance. Her eyes misted when the princess spoke about the going’s on of the war. Her brow furrowed every time a flame-colored leaf drifted to the first floor. Any reminder of the future saddened her.  
  
At first, Catra didn’t think much of the change. Fae were strange after all. And even if she had finally decided that Adora was telling the truth about being a mortal, the fae still raised her.  
  
Then, she wondered if her visits were the problem. She had heard enough about Adora’s “master” to know that she was risking her own safety by welcoming the princess. The court of fae that had . . . “saved” her (the princess thought “claimed” or “kidnapped” would be more accurate) served the Horde. Their magic aided the army’s relentless march across Etheria. Catra shuddered to think what would happen to her friend if she was caught helping her.  
  
The princess began to think that she was wrong to keep coming back. She was endangering this brave warrior, all for the sake of proving her usefulness to the Rebellion - and, admittedly, the chance to see those grey eyes again. How selfish was she?  
  
At the same time, for her own reasons, Tam-Ra began to berate herself. Adora shuddered to think what would happen to her friend if she was caught in her clearing. She had felt her master’s wrath before, when she disobeyed, when she failed, when she asked too many questions; but her master had always held back, always showed mercy.  
  
Adora could only imagine what she would do to someone she had no special interest in keeping alive. She was endangering this brave princess, all for the sake of undermining the Shadow Fae - and, admittedly, the chance to see those mismatched eyes again. How selfish was she?  
  
The warrior unsuccessfully tried to push those thoughts from her mind. Maybe she could be a little selfish, just once in her life. After all, it would be over soon. She wouldn’t be around to put her friend in danger much longer.  
  
\------------------------------  
  
One night, as Catra approached the clearing - a few hours late due to a sudden meeting that required her expertise with the Whispering Woods - the princess found herself scurrying up a tree on instinct. A moment passed before she realized what was happening. She gazed down through the mossy branches to see a troop of fae passing below her. That moment, she offered a silent thanks to her magicat instincts - hoping it would excuse the several thousand times she cursed them for that mouse incident.  
  
First, a dark shadow passed, sucking the warmth out of the air. Catra couldn’t help but shiver. She knew in an instant that this was the master Adora had spoken of - the Queen of the Shadow Fae.  
  
After the woven shadows, three figures followed - fae in crimson Horde cloaks. Catra heard a snippet of their conversation.  
  
“For the last time, Kyle,” the apparent leader of the three said, clearly exasperated. “There’s no mark on your back.”  
  
The lizard hissed something to the same effect as the skinny blonde frantically looked over his own shoulders, spinning around a few times. “Do you know how many times Shadow Weaver threatened to use me for this tithe?” He said, not bothering to hide the trembling in his voice. “What if she changes her mind last minute? She always said she had a soft spot for her.”  
  
Catra couldn’t see her face, but she could tell the leader was rolling her eyes. The princess would have liked this woman if she wasn’t working for the evil army destroying her home. (Honestly, given how _sincere_ everyone at Brightmoon had been the past year, she might be able to overlook that if she was sarcastic enough.)  
  
“The mark had to be placed long before tonight for the ritual to work, Kyle,” she said. “If the wings aren’t there now, you aren’t getting sacrificed tonight.”  
  
Catra felt like all her breath had been knocked out of her body. ‘Wings?’ ‘Sacrifice?’  
  
“And besides,” the leader continued, “she’s been planning this for years. She was always going to use her for this.”  
  
The lizard hissed disapprovingly.  
  
The leader shrugged. “I’m not being cold! I’m being rational. Better her than one of us.”  
  
Catra stayed frozen as their voices drifted off. They were heading to the clearing. They were headed for -  
  
“Adora.” Before the name left her lips, the princess was blazing through the canopy, silently outpacing the fae, who moved languidly, like they had all the time in the world. She shot into the clearing like a comet, much to Tam-Ra’s wide-eyed shock.  
  
They both started talking over one another.  
  
“What are you—“  
  
“Sacrifice! You! Tonight! We have to —“  
  
“—can’t be here! Shadow Weaver is—“  
  
“—get out of here before —“  
  
“—be here any minute-“  
  
Then in frustration, both cried out in unison, “She’s gonna kill you!”  
  
Adora was the first to recover. In one swift motion, she grabbed a green cloak off a branch and wrapped it around Catra’s shoulders. The princess felt a slight buzz as the glowing warrior muttered a spell. “This will hide you from fae eyes,” she explained. “Shadow Weaver is performing a ritual tonight — a tithe to renew her powers.” She looked resigned, her words streamed out faster. “If she succeeds, the Shadow Fae and the Horde will be a bigger threat than ever. I’m going to try to stop her at the last second, but if I fail you have to warn the Alliance. There’s a court of Selie Fae in a hidden place called Mystacor. They can help you. I should have warned you earlier, but I was scared, I’m sorry—“  
  
“No!” Catra shouted with a ferocity that shocked them both. “What? Did you think I was just gonna be ok with this?”  
  
Tears welled up in the warrior’s eyes. “I know you hate me for putting your friends in danger. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the tithe before,” she said, resigned. “But I’ve served the Shadow Fae my whole life, and I just want to do one good thing before it’s over.”  
  
“I don’t hate you,” the princess shouted without thinking. “I love you!”  
  
For a moment, everything was still except for her pounding heart. It seemed like the woods themselves fell silent, as if holding its breath, waiting for someone to say something. “I love you too,” Adora responded, as much to herself as to the princess. Their faces softened as they recovered from the shock they gave each other. They released the breaths they hadn’t realized they’d been holding all this time.  
  
Adora wanted to hold on to that moment forever, but she didn’t get to want things. So, she stepped back before Catra could embrace her. “I could never hurt you. I could never live with myself if you got hurt because of me.” She turned her eyes towards the edge of the clearing, as if she could see her master approaching through the mists. “So please, Catra. Please go home.”  
  
When the fae reached the clearing, they found Tam Ra alone.  
  
——--------------  
  
It was a long road to the Court of the Shadow Fae. After hours of riding, the five riders (the Queen of the Shadow Fae followed by four knights) were finally drawing near to their destination. The knights appeared identical in matching crimson cloaks with the hoods drawn over their faces. The only difference between them was the color. First brown, then black, then white, then roan.  
  
Well, that and the fact that the white horse was talking incessantly, really ruining the whole spooky mood the Shadow Fae were going for.  
  
“And then, Tam Ra and I dashed into the mouth of the Mester Seawoorm, set fire to its liver, and flew out just before it collapsed into the sea! I hear it’s teeth became the Orkney Isles. Then, this other time, Tam Ra and I were fighting some selkies . . .”  
  
By the time they reached Miles Crossing, the other riders had tuned him out. Instead, they focused on pointedly avoiding looking at his rider, as if they were embarrassed about something.  
  
As a result, when a green shadow leapt out of the tree-line and pulled the rider into her arms, it took a second for anyone to notice. When they did, the fae froze for a moment. The princess saw their eyes boring into her like arrows as she hugged her knight by the side of the road. The queen, her eyes glowing beneath her mask, hissed something in a language the princess couldn’t understand, but she felt Tam-Ra, in spite of all her strength, shudder. Still, the knight shook her head and hugged her princess tighter.  
  
That’s when all hell broke loose.  
  
A shadow flew from the queen’s outstretched hand, leaping at Tam-Ra like a snake, which was - appropriately - the first thing she turned into - a large black adder with fangs dripping poison. Still, the princess held her close and did not let go. And the snake did not bite her.  
  
Then, another shadow struck her, and Tam-Ra turned into an enormous lioness with huge claws and a billowing red mane. The beast flailed, still panicking, but still the princess held her close and did not let her go. And the lion did not harm her.  
  
Then, another shadow struck her, and Tam-Ra turned into a great blonde wolf, with enormous jaws and sharp teeth. The princess felt her claws dig into her back, but they didn’t draw blood. She howled, and the magicat princess had a strong urge to cover her sensitive ears. But still, the princess held her close and did not let her go. And the wolf did not harm her.  
  
And so it went through a hundred transformations. No matter what, the princess refused to let go of her knight. She wouldn’t abandon her; wouldn’t let her throw her life away. And for once in her life, the knight let another risk their life for hers.  
  
At last, in desperation, the queen cast a powerful bolt of shadow magic, and Tam-Ra became a simple, bright flame. The princess smelled her burning fur before she felt her skin begin to blister, but she had been waiting for this.  
  
The princess dashed to the well by the clearing and dumped the fire in. The moment the fire hit the water, it was replaced by a mess of ratty blonde hair. The red light from the wings sputtered and died against the stone walls. The mark had disappeared from her shoulders, burned away by the Shadow Queen’s own magic. As the knight pulled herself just above the edge of the stone well, the princess couldn’t help but think that she looked better with her hair down.  
  
The Queen hissed something else Catra couldn’t understand. The knight, still in the well, flinched, but responded defiantly. “You would have had to have done the same to my heart to stop that from happening! And she's not mangy!”  
  
The Queen hissed again, glared at the princess, and reluctantly rode off, the other fae knights following hastily.  
  
Catra turned to the knight in the well. In spite of the relief overwhelming her heart, the princess tried to affect a causal manner. “You know,” she said, “you could have just said you’d be on the talking horse instead of the ‘white one’ and that would have been more descriptive.”  
  
The knight shrugged, keeping her shoulders below the water line. “I wasn’t certain the horse would be Swift Wind,” she said, apologetically. “I’m not the summoner. I just knew that my mas- that the Shadow Queen - would have me on the white one. You know? Symbolism.” She trailed off. “Purity and nobility and all that.”  
  
Catra laughed. “I'm not complaining, the plan worked great! I wish I could have understood what she was saying,” the princess chuckled. “I’m so proud that you stood up to her.”  
  
Adora smiled. “You made it easier,” she explained. “But I think you would have been . . . disturbed by what she said.”  
  
“Try me,” Catra ordered with a smirk. “What was the last thing she said to you?”  
  
“If I knew you would fall for a mangy princess,” Adora said with a stony face, “I would have turned your eyes to wood when I first found you.” Catra raised an eyebrow. “That’s what she said,” Adora offered defensively.  
  
“I didn’t think you were saying it,” Catra explained. “I was just thinking, when you said ‘you’d have to have changed my heart too’ you were answering that?”  
  
Adora nodded. “What can I say? You’re a lot more than just a pretty face, Catra.”  
  
Catra snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re going to fit in at Brightmoon alright. Unless you die of hypothermia. Get out of that well, and let’s go home.”  
  
Adora turned a brighter shade of red than the princess’ doublet. “Umm,” She said nervously, sinking deeper into the water. “You know how I got turned into literal fire that burned away the magic markings on my back.”  
  
Catra nodded, not sure where the knight was going with this.  
  
The knight’s skin grew somehow redder. “Umm,” She almost whispered, “and you know how clothes burn more easily than curses.”  
  
Oh, the princess thought, the realization hitting her like a Horde tank. _Oh she’s, oh she’s . . .!_  
  
In a single swift motion, as chivalrous as she possibly could be, the princess took the enchanted cloak off her shoulders and wrapped it around her knight’s bare limbs. Then, with all the willpower she could muster, she turned away while she heard her knight struggle to get out of the well, not looking behind regardless of her temptations.  
  
When she felt a wet hand on her shoulder, she finally released the breath she had been holding. When she turned around and kissed the knight on the lips, she finally let her heart start breathing again. The knight hadn’t been expecting it, but returned it with gusto.  
  
“Wow,” she muttered, awestruck when they pulled apart.  
  
Catra snorted. “Don’t ruin it.”  
  
They stayed in that embrace, bathed in moonlight and shadow for as long as they dared before finally the knight spoke up. “So . . . what now?” She asked, the anxiety taking over. “I’ve defected from the Court of the Shadow Fae- I’ve turned against the Horde! I can’t go back! Were you serious about . . . about taking me in?” Her blue-grey grew huge, as if waiting for the betrayal.  
  
“Of course,” Catra answered in a heartbeat. “I love you. I’d fight every queen, princess, sorcerer, and soldier in Etheria to make a safe place for you, even if you couldn’t turn into an 8-foot tall warrior lady.” The princess chuckled to herself. “And don't worry. Even if you couldn’t do that, the rest of the Alliance would still welcome you with open arms. You’re a good person, Adora. You deserve love, regardless of what you have to offer others.”  
  
Catra cringed internally, feeling like the Princess of Plumeria had too great an influence over her, but she knew Adora needed to hear this, no matter how embarrassingly _sincere_ it felt to say out loud. For the first time in her life, every one of those smultuzy words felt sincere and natural.  
  
Adora seemed to feel the same way, pulling the princess back into another kiss, and then an embrace. Catra was rivaling Princess Scorpia of the Crimson Waste for great hugs and loyalty this night. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Princess” Adora whispered in her ear. Catra was scandalously aware of that the thin green cloak was all that separated them, but that would have to wait. Brightmoon’s beds were more comfortable than the forest floor . . .

  
Adora pulled away, looking her in the eyes with more trust than she thought possible to offer. The knight pulled the Sword of Protection from the dusty earth, never breaking eye contact, as if looking away would break the spell. “Wherever you go,” She said, “That’s home.”  
  
“Well then,” the princess said with a wry smile and a sly wink. “Let’s go home.” She chuckled to herself. “They don’t stand a chance against the two of us.” Whether the princess meant the Evil Horde or the Princess Alliance, Adora didn’t care.  
  
For the record, Princess Catra meant both.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this story. A little autumn idea that popped in my head and refused to leave until I wrote this. At first, I thought about retelling the Cattle Raid of Ulster, but I don't feel like angsting that hard right now. Feel free to run with that idea, writers, cuz I would love to read it!!! Celtic mythology needs more love!
> 
> Comments and kudos would be lovely since finals are coming up and I need the dopamine.


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